Hypocritical
by TomRiddle3112
Summary: Harry Potter is on a mission. Sent back in time, Sorted into Slytherin and has one plan. Kill Tom Riddle before he has the chance to be Voldemort. That's simple, right? Wrong. When Riddle realises who he is, he has to make the ultimate choice: Befriend Riddle or die a horrible death. Will ey survive the year? Read the full summary inside. Rated because I'm paranoid :P review! AU!
1. Time Travelling Potter

**_Pairings: Tom/Harry, Draco/Hermione_**

**_Warnings: Bashings, Slash, Abuse, Lemons, Snogging, Kissing, Character Death, Torture, Graphic Violence_**

**_Bashings: all Weasleys (not Fred/George!) Dumbles, Gryffindor, Snape, McGonagall_**

**_Summary: Harry Potter is on a mission. Sent back in time, Sorted into Slytherin and has one plan. Kill Tom Riddle before he has the chance to be Voldemort. That's simple, right. Wrong. When Riddle realises who he is, he has to make the ultimate choice: Befriend Riddle, or die a horrible death. What happens when Voldmeort comes back, with every intention of murdering Harry? Join an enthusiastic Harry, a cynical Tom, Abraxas Malfoy with a fear of snakes with a pet snake, Sirius LeStrange who has something up his sleeve, Zoe Zabini who is relatively normal and hates Cygnus Black who is head over heels for Zoe, and Annabeth Darling to look after them all. Will the gang survive the year? _**

**_HYPOCRITICAL_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to J. K. Rowling._**

**_CHAPTER ONE_**

**_A Chance To Start Over_**

**_HARRY_**

Harry was sitting in the Headmaster's Office, fighting back tears of anger and guilt. The Tournament had gone as bad as it could of; the Death Eaters had outnumbered the him by far, even with the Cedric helping out. But Cedric was dead now. Voldemort had taken care of that. He was dead, tortured by the Cruciatus and killed. It wasn't fair! Cedric was kind, caring, gentle, hard working, funny, loyal, everything a Hufflepuff should be. He hadn't done anything wrong. He'd merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He looked at Dumbledore, his pained eyes far too old for someone so young.

"The War has started Harry," sighed Dumbledore wearily, looking every year his age. "And I fear, this time, we have no hope. We will not win. Voldemort's Army is too strong, there are too many of them. The Vampires, the Werewolves, the Veelas, the Giants... And they have already corrupted the Ministry, I fear. There is nothing we can do."

Harry's throat constricted and tears stung his warm, usually cheerful emerald eyes. This wasn't supposed to be happening. The War was supposed to be over. The Dark Forces, Voldemort, was supposed to be dead, dead and weak, never coming back. He was supposed to have killed him as a baby! But it seemed like he'd only bought the Wizarding World a little time. But now Time was not a luxury any of them had. Not any more, with darkness lurking just around the corner.

"There's...nothing we can do?" He repeated softly, looking out the window to see people playing Quidditch. His heart gave a pang as he saw them laughing and joking, free of the burden that he had carried ever since the graveyard. Free of the truth. Not knowing what would hit them. If Voldmort had his way, none of this would happen. There would be no fun, no Quidditch, no sitting round the Gryffindor fire and laughing and joking. He would be dead, as would Dumbledore. The man shook his head, his eyes, once light and sparkling were now grave and devoid of any twinkle there once had been

"There is only one option, an extremely risky one. Do nothing. Quietly build up our own smaller army and hope we can beat Voldemort when the time comes. However, we have a twenty percent chance of winning, and not dooming the world."

Harry shook his head, almost to himself. "We can't do that. There's no way of knowing if we'd win or not. What if he just comes back as a spirit again? We can't risk it. I refuse. There must be another way!"

Just then an idea exploded in his head. Harry almost laughed at the sheer thought of it. It was insane. It was dangerous. It was terrifying. Yet it could work...

Dumbledore looked at him piercingly.

"You have another way, Harry?"

He opened his mouth to tell the Headmaster his idea. But, something held him back. Dumbledore would stop him. Or tell him it was too dangerous. Or even say it was impossible.

"No Professor, I don't."

"Are you sure, Harry?"

Harry nodded, looking away from those stern eyes. He knew if he did look, he'd spill all his secrets and tell him the idea he had. The Headmaster sighed, and dismissed him.

**-oOoOo-**

Harry ran back to the Commonroom, barely avoiding Snape or Filch.

"Darkness Is Coming," Harry whispered to the Potrait of the Fat Lady. She gave him a grim look, and nodded, opening up to reveal a dark stone passageway. He climbed along it, quietly igniting his wand. How handy he'd found out about this. Last week, he'd mumbled those words whilest at the Potrait and she'd let him through to here. It was a separate common room, for him only. It was built for whoever it was to hide if Dark Forces penetrated the Castle. They could find Gryffindor Common Room, but they couldn't find The Hideaway.

He ran along the corridor, arriving at a stone door. He spoke the password confidently.

"Warriors of the Phoenix."

The door creaked opened and Harry stepped inside, sighing contentedly at the warm atmosphere. He heard low voices from the corner, and could just make out two figures in the shadows. He drew his wand.

"Speak, are you friend or foe?" Harry demanded, getting into a duelling stance. The two figures stepped out cautiously.

"Friends!" They replied in unison. It was Ron and Hermione. Harry still pointed his wand at Hermione's chest, keeping it trained on her heart.

"What did you say after we had escaped the Cerebus for the first time?" He asked. Hermione smiled.

"I was extremely upset, and said, 'I'm going to bed, before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed, or worse, expelled!' I seemed to think dying was better than being expelled. Then I went to bed, wondering how you two could be so stupid!" She laughed. Harry grinned, but switched his wand to Ron.

"How did you rescue me from the Dursleys?" He questioned.

"By Dad's flying car. Me, Fred and George came at night. You were locked in your room with bars on the windows. Fred and George got your stuff and we almost forgot Hedwig. Then your Uncle woke up and kept hold of your foot. We dragged him out the window and he fell in the bushes! It was pretty funny. Mind you, Mum was furious," Ron added. Harry dropped his wand.

"Hey. What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about?" Asked Ron once they were seated. Harry shrugged, sleepy and full from Dobby's great cooking.

"He told me we have no chance in the war. Voldemort's army is too strong and powerful. He said the only option we have is to give up. I, however, have another idea," he smirked. His best friends sat forward eagerly.

"Here's what I think. If Voldemort is too strong now, why can't we destroy him as a teenager? It will be much easier and means Voldmeort will just disappear in this timeline. All I need to do is find a time turner to take me back sixty years, so I can kill him. Any ideas?"

Hermione squealed and threw him a small time turner. He caught it automatically and looked at it sceptically.

"This," began Hermione, entering 'book worm mode', "is a Multi- Turner. It can take you back as far as one hundred years, so be careful with it. A witch called Barbara Salmaradas invented it in the late 1500's, for the sound purpose of-"

"Hermione," interrupted Ron quickly. "We don't need to know all of this. Ok!"

Hermione looked disgruntled. "Well, Ronald, it's extremely important! What if..."

Harry smiled as his two friends went off on one of their infamous arguments. That was one thing that hadn't changed! He examined the Multi-Turner closely. It looked to be made from pure gold and silver, and looked very expensive and fragile.

"Hermione," he said slowly, turning the small necklace over. "This is priceless looking. Where did you get it?"

She looked a bit sheepish.

"Well, I saw it in Diagon Alley, and I had a feeling you would need it. It was just lying on a chair in the Ice Cream parlour, and I just took it, and ran before anyone could see me." She explained, looking embarrassed.

Ron looked impressed.

"Blimey Hermione, nice one!"

Harry stared in surprise. Hermione, breaking the rules and stealing something that expensive? It didn't add up...oh well.

He took a deep breath and hung the time turner around his neck, to keep safe from thieves. They sat in companiable silence Harry gasped in pain, hand drifting to his scar, which was red and inflamed.

**-POTTER! Meet me at the Forbidden Forest. I want to talk, no funny business. Hurry up!-**

"Voldemort wants to talk to me. In the Forbidden Forest." He choked out through clenched teeth. He sent a message back.

**-Really now, that is quite rude, causing me pain like that. I'll meet with you if you want, just stop being so melodramatic already. I'm coming!-**

He cut the connection when his scar flared painfully one last time, then died down to a dull throb. He stood up, a bit unsteadily, not fully recovered from the torture in the graveyard yesterday.

"I'll be back, unless he kills me. If he kills me, someone kill me, ok?" He joked nervously, trying to put on an uncaring mask, yet judging from his friends looks, he was failing miserably. He waved goodbye and made his way through the Castle under his Invisiblity Cloak, a funny sensation in his stomach, as though he wouldn't see the Castle as he knew it for a long time.

He arrived in the Forbidden Forest and waited for Voldemort, adopting a bored mask. Silently, Voldemort appeared in front of him.

"Where is Potter?" He murmured to himself. Harry smirked.

"You need better eyesight, Voldie," he answered cheekily. He pulled off his cloak and Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"Are you do eager for another taste of the Cruciatus, Potter?" He sneered, twirling his wand. Harry flinched involuntarily, stepping a bit away from the Dark Lord.

"So what did you want? I doubt you were here for a catchup." He smiled.

"You're right. I didn't come for small talk. Your emotions were spiking everywhere earlier, Potter, and I want to know why! Immobulus!"

Harry felt himself freeze, unable to move quickly. Voldemort tipped some Veritiserum down his throat, just as the spell wore off. He struggled but it was too late. He could feel his mind growing blank and fuzzy, his limbs growing heavy. A voice floated into his head.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter," he answered in a dull monotone. Voldemort smirked in triumph.

"Why were you do...emotional earlier today?"

"Dumbledore told me there was no way I could defeat your army. I was, understandably, upset."

"Understandably," The Dark Lord murmured. "And why again?"

Harry struggled with all his might, but it still came out. "I thought of a way I could. I could go back in time and defeat Tom Riddle, then you would just go away, disappear."

Voldemort's eyes flashed angrily for a moment before settling. Somewhere in Harry's befuddled mind, he knew he had to get away. The time turner! He reached down, and twisted the knob quickly. Before he managed to twist it sixty times though, Voldemort shoved his hand away.

"What've you...you've...how dare you!" The snake faced man spluttered in rage, and by that time, Harry was already gone, whisked away in a flash of golden light.

** -oOoOo-**

Harry blinked.

He was falling. Fast. He flipped over and tried to slow himself down, to no avail. He panicked.

"Help!" He shouted into the never ending blackness. "Anyone?"

"Oh for Salazar's Sake," groaned an irritated voice. "Who is it? If it's Zabini, no, I won't go out with you. If it's Malfoy, she'll will be under your bed, in the cupboard or in the bed. If it's LeStrange, get lost. Black if that's you, Zabini's not in here. If it's Annabeth, nobody's in here but me, your master. Ok?"

Harry blinked again, seeing a large light ahead of him. He landed on the cold ground hard, hearing a snap. Pain flooded his right arm and he gave a moan of pain. He looked up, gritting his teeth. A familiar cold face looked down at him, confused.

"Tom Riddle?" Harry asked. The boy, who stepped away, looked wary.

"How do you know my name?" He asked. But Harry drifted off, comforted by the thought that he had arrived in the right time.

**-oOoOo-**

**_Thanks for reading the first instalment of Hypocritical, the first in the series called Nihil Autem Tempus. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review! ;) The warnings are listed above, not all of them will be straight away. But if you dont like, don't read! If you like the Weasleys, please don't read either. Lol, ok, thanks._**

**_Be sly, smart and smooth, slippery snakes._**

**_DeVinette 3112_**


	2. A Lion In The Snake's Den

**_Hypocritical_**

**_by Tom Riddle DeVinette_**

**_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. That belongs to J. K. Rowling! I do own Annabeth Darling, Professor Lamber, Professor Ascar, Rachel and Ruby Coldmuff and Robert Oscar :) Please Read and Review!_**

**_-oOoOo-_**

**_CHAPTER TWO_**

**_A Snake In Lion's Clothing_**

**_ -oOoOo-_**

Harry woke up in the Hospital Wing. Yet again. He sighed to himself, making a mental note to himself to avoid getting hurt and, consequently, ending up in the hospital wing. A stern pinched face woman bustled up to him, suspicion written on her face.

"Mr Evans," she barked loudly, causing Harry to wince, as it caused his headache to escalate. "You have Mr Riddle to thank for your life. Your heart stopped a total of eight times. If he hadn't brought you here when he did, you wouldn't be here at the minute."

Dead. His mouth went dry. Dead and gone and not able to get back to his own world once the mission was completed. And Tom Riddle would still be alive. He shivered at the thought.

"Do you know where Mr...Riddle...is so I can thank him?" He questioned politely. The Matron's eyes seemed to soften slightly at the mention of the Slytherin.

"He'll be here shortly. He is to be your guide around Hogwarts, at least for the next two months." She answered. At that moment the door was opened, and in stepped a teenager Harry had hoped to never see again in his life. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Riddle looked as unperturbed as ever, not a single dark hair out of place. His dangerous grey eyes, so cold and calculating, were fixed on Harry almost possessively. He crossed the room and smiled charmingly at the Matron.

"Madame Kristburne," he bowed, brushing her hand with his lips. "I hope I find you well?"

The Matron actually blushed, a dark, splodgy colour that contrasted horribly with her flabby skin.

"Oh darling," she gushed, beaming at him. "You flatter me. I'm fine thank you. Mr Evans here is ready to leave, whenever you are, that is!"

He glanced at him, and he tensed up. Riddle strode smoothly over to him, smile fixed in place.

"Hadrian Lucas Evans," he murmured, holding out a hand. "I'm Tom. Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine, I assure you," he said curtly, not taking the offered hand. A dark glint entered those hard eyes. Harry ignored it, forcing his tired legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor. He thanked Madame Kristburne and walked shakily over to the door, trying to ignore Riddle. A wave of nausea swept through him and he grabbed hold of the nearest thing for support. Which, unfortunately, just happened to be Tom.

"Careful, Hadrian," he said quietly, grabbing him and helping him up. Harry suppressed a wince of pain as the tight grip caused his fingers to crack. He glowered at Riddle, wrenching his hand away. Riddle, of course, immediately took it back, smirking as he did so.

"Where are we going?" Harry glared. Tom tutted, already half leading, half carrying, Harry along the corridors.

"To Professor Dumbledore's," he spat his name out like it was a curse. Harry raised one eyebrow in response to the show of emotion.

"Careful Riddle," he mocked. "People might actually start to think you're human. That you care."

Tom froze, eyes drifting towards Harry suspiciously.

"Who told you my name was Riddle?" He demanded, pressing his long slender fingers painfully against Harry's own. "How do you know?"

Harry mentally kicked himself. _Idiot_, he berated himself. _Make him suspicious already. Nice one, genius._

"I...heard it somewhere," he lied quickly, not looking at Riddle. "In a book."

"You've not been to the library," breathed Tom triumphantly. "You're a terrible liar, _Harry_."

Harry flinched away. "What- how..." Then he got a hold of himself. "Don't be stupid," he said easily. "My name isn't Harry. It's Hadrian!"

Tom sneered in response.

"Then why did it take you a moment to answer?" He asked smoothly. "Why do you not respond to Hadrian? Why didn't you realise, _Harry_, that Harry is a shortened version of Hadrian? Come. The Headmaster's Office is this way."

They walked in silence, Harry hating himself for freezing around Riddle. They arrived at a large stone staircase. He wrinkled his brow. Clearly the Gargoyle statue hadn't been made yet. They went up the stairs, where Tom sneered the password.

"Red Lions."

The door creaked open and they entered, Tom adopting what Harry immediately named the 'model mask'. It was smooth, angelic and showed no emotion, save through his eyes, which were as dark and as dangerous as before.

"Professor Dumbledore," he spoke neutrally, not conveying any emotion other than surprise, innocence and curiosity. "Can I help you? Is there something wrong sir?"

Harry stared at him incredulously. He bet his broomstick that Riddle already knew why they were here.

Dumbledore, a ginger, younger Dumbledore, smiled gently at them.

"Mr Evans." He said, motioning for them to sit down. "Tom. Good evening. Mr Evans needs to be Sorted and I was hoping, Tom, that you could show him around the school for the next year?"

Something indecipherable flashed suddenly through the Slytherin's eyes, an emotion of some sort, but it was gone so quickly that Harry couldn't read it.

"Of course, Professor," he said carefully, face unreadable. "I'll happily show..._Harry_...around. Don't want him to, ah, _get into trouble_."

Dumbledore nodded happily and placed the Sorting Hat on Harry's head.

**..WHAT?! ANOTHER ONE?! My goodness, Potter. Stop it already. I don't need to sort you again!..**

**.. Um, just do us a favour and put me in Gryffindor. I might be able to meet my grandfather..** Thought Harry.

**.. No, no, no!..** The Hat chuckled nastily, before deciding.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry sighed and restrained himself from attacking the bloody hat. He closed his eyes briefly and controlled himself. He was aware of Tom watching him intently. He opened them again to find Dumbledore scrutinising him deeply. He shifted uncomfortably. Dumbledore snapped out of his thoughts and beamed at Harry.

"Slytherin, eh? Well, you'll need to get the correct robes then, won't you?"

Suddenly there was a small flash and Harry felt his robes change from indistinguishable to emerald green, with the stupid Slytherin crest above his heart, taunting him. He stood up smoothly, nodding to the man.

"Thank you, Headmas- _Professor_," he corrected himself hastily, starting to walk out the door when Tom caught his robes.

"Wait up, _Harry_!" He smiled charmingly. "I've to show you around, remember? I know me and you are going to be _good friends_ together!"

Harry barely stopped himself from punching Riddle. This was going to be a _long _year.

**_-oOoOo-_**

It was two days after the arrival of Harry 'Hadrian' Lucas Evans. Tom had stuck to the boy like glue, showering him with derogatory remarks and unwelcome criticism. The other responded quite sarcastically, and Tom was intrigued. Why wouldn't this toy snap? Perhaps it was time to step up the comments a bit.

"Hello, _Harry_," he smiled softly, not showing him the dangerous side to him. Besides, he already knew that Harry was aware of the nasty part, so he kept up his mask. The boy glowered in response. "How's the family?"

Harry's right eye twitched, but other than that he gave no indication hat he had heard him. Tom edged closer, like a wild animal would catching it's prey.

"Now, now, Harry," he purred. Harry stiffened. "Answer my question. That's manners, isn't it? A _half blood_, am I right? Which parent was the filthy Mudblood?"

Aha. There we go.

Harry snapped and shoved Tom against a wall by the throat, eyes glowing eerily and body trembling with rage.

"Shut up," he whispered in anger, no, fury, punching Tom hard. Tom, however, merely blinked lazily in response. "Shut up about my family! You know nothing about me, Riddle, so don't presume you do! My father was a Pureblood, and my mother might've been a Muggleborn, but she was smart and brave, unlike _YOU_! My parents were murdered, what right do _you_ have calling them names? You're a bastard!"

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"No," he drawled. Harry looked confused. He continued. "I'm not a bastard. My parents were both married, actually, thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Charms Class."

He shrugged Harry off, leaving the gobsmacked boy to cool off. Once he was outside, he smirked at the response he had gotten from the other. Evans had potential. Powerful, witty... Hmmm. Perhaps he wouldn't break this toy too quickly after all. Things didn't add up. It was time to do some investigating in the library records.

**_-oOoOo-_**

Harry slid down the wall, clutching his hair tightly in his pale hands. He knew what Riddle was trying to do. He was trying to anger him on purpose, trying to assess him to see if he could hurt him. But he wouldn't let him. He wouldn't. He groaned. It seemed everything bad was determined to happen to him, and it wasn't even Halloween yet! Wait...that explained it. It was a Saturday. Everything seemed to happen on a Saturday, June or Halloween.

It was a Saturday his parents were murdered. It was a Saturday in the Chamber of Secrets, it was also a Saturday when he rescued the Philosopher's Stone, and when the Dementors knocked him off his broom, and made him lose the match. Saturday was also when Voldemort was resurrected, Cedric was killed, he was tortured, and he was selected to outfly a dragon, rescue Ron, was picked for the Tournament, and had to battle his way through a giant maze. He sighed. Saturdays must really hate him.

He walked slowly to Defence, wondering who the teacher would be this year. He hoped it wasn't anyone trying to murder him. He'd already had teachers like that. Quirrell, Lockheart (well, he'd obliviated them, or at least tried to), Lupin (werewolf form, but still) and then 'Moody'.

He sat down near the middle and tried to ignore the stares and whispers coming in his direction. A cool hand appeared on his shoulder, and Harry jumped in surprise, reaching for his wand. A voice smirked.

"Relax, Evans. It's only me. One would think you've been involved on a war!"

It was Tom. Harry stiffened. How did Tom know? Unless...could it have been a guess? He laughed uneasily.

"Don't be stupid. You're wrong!"

The Slytherin's eyes narrowed, unseen to everyone else but Harry.

"I'm never wrong, Evans."

There was a certain scary certainty to that statement that made Harry's blood run cold. He was about to reply when the Professor walked in. Harry stared in shock, face draining of all colour.

It looked like an older version of Arthur Weasley. He was definitely a Weasley, in any case, according to the hair. It was ginger and short and was combed neatly. His steely brown eyes were hard and trained. War eyes. This was a man that had seen many things and live to tell the tale about it.

"Good afternoon class. My name is Professor Lambert and I shall be teaching you this year alone. Your other Professor, Professor Ascar, has left for family business. This year I shall be teaching you about Dark Curses. I have full permission to perform two of them on volunteers, so don't go crying to your mummies and daddies that the nasty teacher was cursing you. First off, who can tell me the name of the Unforgivable Curses? Ah, Mr Riddle?"

Harry slouched down in his seat as Tom rattled off an answer. The Professor nodded in satisfaction.

"Yes, ten points to Slytherin, Riddle. The Imperius, the Cruciatus, and the Killing Curse. Who knows the incantations for them... Mr..?"

"Potter, sir. Charlus Potter. Imperio, Crucio and Avada Kedavra, sir."

**_Potter? _**Oh hell. Harry stared at the boy that bore almost no resemblance to him whatsoever, except the hair. That black, untameable, Potter hair.

"Correct, ten points to Gryffindor, Potter. Now, who is going to help me perform these curses? How about... Brown, Riddle, Oscar..."

Harry tried to make himself invisible. Not the Unforgiveables. Not yet.

"And how about Mr Evans as well? Up you come!"

Shit. He was screwed.

**_-oOoOo-_**

**_Thanks for reading the latest instalment of Hypocritical, the first in the series called Nihil Autem Tempus. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review! ;) The warnings are listed above, not all of them will be straight away. But if you dont like, don't read! If you like the Weasleys, please don't read either. Lol, ok, thanks._**

_**Be sly, smart and smooth, slippery snakes.**_

_**DeVinette 3112**_


	3. A Party, Potions, and A Fight

**_CHAPTER THREE_**

**_Curses, Cruciatus and Imperius_**

**_DISCAIMER: Don't own HP, never will._**

**_-oOoOo-_**

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Professor," he muttered softly. The wizard stepped forward.

"I'm _not sure_ it's up to you to decide. Move it Evans!" He mocked cruelly. Harry looked at him.

"I did warn you, sir."

Harry stepped up beside Riddle, who sneered at him.

"First up...Mr Riddle, will perform the curses on... Mr Evans, I think. You need to feel hate, Riddle. I'm not sure if you're capable of that or not, but at least try. Evans...just, obey."

Harry never thought he'd hate a teacher so much as he did now. He glared at the wizard, but complied. Riddle took out his wand with a flourish.

"Imperio!"

At once his head went fuzzy and a peaceful sensation came over him. A voice appeared in his head.

'_**Get down on your knees and call me your lord'**_ it instructed him. Harry snorted scornfully, fighting to shake free. He managed to throw it off, and stood up confidently. He smiled innocently at Tom, who smiled back, but with a dangerous edge to it.

"Really, Riddle? As if I'm ever going to do that," he muttered. Tom shrugged elegantly.

"It was worth a try, Evans." He replied, readying his wand again. Harry tensed subtly, waiting for the pain.

"Crucio!"

It hit, ten times harder than expected. He dropped to his knees, automatically curling up. But then he remembered who he was at the mercy at, and where he was. He staggered to his feet, clenching his teeth to stop the screams.

"Impressive, Riddle," congratulated Lambert. Riddle dropped the curse. Harry took a deep, steadying breath as the Professor stood forwards, grinning madly.

"My turn, Evans!" He announced. "Imperio!"

There was that blissful feeling again. But Harry wasn't going to humor him. He summoned a huge burst of magic and let it rip free. It charged into the wizard and sent him flying back, hitting the wall with a dull thud. It took him a few minutes to get up again.

"Fifteen points from Slytherin for attacking a teacher! Class dismissed, homework is to write a foot on the Killing Curse. Off you go!"

Harry raced out of the class as fast as he could. He really hated Saturdays.

**_-oOoOo-_**

_He bloody hated Halloweens_.

It was the day after his little stunt in the Defence Class. Halloween. Sunday. Ugh. There was a Halloween party in the Slytherin Commonroom, from midnight to the late hours in the morning. It was one right now, the party had been on for just an hour, and already Harry was wishing it would hurry up and end. He drained his bottle of Firewhisky, stumbling up to get another one, when a cold icy hand grabbed his. Riddle.

"Evans," he greeted, grey eyes flitting briefly to the dazed, tired look on his normally attentive face, and the empty bottle in his hand. "Feeling the stress then? Clearly not very good at holding your drink, are we sweetheart?"

Harry looked at him incredulously.

"Did you just- no, you didn't...did you just call me _sweetheart_?"

Riddle raised one eyebrow. "Does the alcohol affect your hearing as well sweetheart?"

Harry took a step back in horror. "Don't- I mean- don't call me that!" He squeaked, blushing lightly. A sly expression appeared on the others face, but Harry didn't notice, too busy picking up a bottle and going back to sit down at the fire. Tom snatched it off of him, sneering.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed angrily, standing up rather unsteadily. "Give it back!"

Tom simply smirked at him. "Or what, _sweetheart_?" He asked coolly, throwing the bottle to one of his 'Mini Deatheaters'. He caught it easily, smiling. "You'll _pout_ at me? Not exactly terrifying, is it?"

"No it's not." Harry returned quickly, feeling more confident than he should. "Because it's not as terrifying as your face!"

The whole Commonroom held its breath. Riddle's eyes narrowed dangerously. Then he smiled, acting friendly.

"You know what?" He announced, spinning to face his house. "Let's leave the _damn boy _and_ his pathetic comebacks. _Music anyone? Malfoy, give him his drink!"

Malfoy chucked his his drink and he caught it, ignoring his uneasy feeling. Riddle would get him back in the morning, probably. He realised Malfoy had accidentally passed him two bottles instead of one. He smiled slightly. Good. He hated Halloween. But maybe, just maybe, this one wouldn't be as disastrous as the past years. He downed the first bottle in a few gulps and took a large drink of the second one. It was soon finished as well. He stood up and quickly realised walking would be a problem. He swayed badly, staggering to the side.

"Easy, darling," murmured a familiar voice.

"You put something in my drink!" Accused Harry, limbs feeling heavy and useless. He felt himself slump onto the taller one. "What was it?!"

His brain felt foggy and he found it hard to think or speak. He dimly heard Riddle speaking as he was carried out of the Commonroom and up to the Dormitories.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart," Tom 'reassured' him. "It's not _permanent or anything_. It will last for two days. You'll be fine for school on Monday, probably. I didn't poison you. I just want a little...chat...win you, without you getting all angry. It's a simple Strength Draining Potion, combined with a mild sleeping draught and truth serum. And Firewhisky. Lots of it. You'll feel it bad in the morning, _darling_. Anyway, here we are."

Harry stared up at him in loathing. "You'll...I'll make you...pay!" He growled, every word an effort. He could feel his eyelids drooping and he had to use all his will to keep them half open. Riddle sat over him, on the bed, whereas he lay sprawled, limbs useless, on the floor.

"Sure you will, Sweetheart." Tom smiled easily. "Now who are you? Tell the truth!"

"Harry... James Potter." He ground out, wanting to...wanting to...so tired...so sleepy...

"How old are you now?" Riddle's voice was sharp.

"I'm fourteen."

"Lovely, Harry," he smiled charmingly. Harry's eyelids closed, not yet asleep, but soon would be. "And why do you hate me so much?"

No! He couldn't answer that one, but he couldn't help it, the Truth Serum was too strong.

"You grew up to try and murder me."

Silence.

He knew there was a reason he hated Halloween.

He could feel himself growing sleepier and sleepier, legs and arms feeling as though they were made of lead.

"I what?" Tom demanded coldly.

"You grew up to try and murder me."

"I failed? What spell did I use?"

"A-Avada Kedavra."

Tom looked at him, a hint of emotion lurking in his face. What was it? Curiosity, perhaps? No, it was something more. Wonder? Anger? Confusion? A mix of all four? But suddenly Harry felt a spark inside him. He concentrated hard on the spark, feeling it grow and consume his body in it's energy. He leapt up, albeit rather unsteadily from the alcohol, but managed to punch a surprised Riddle in the face, breaking his nose. Riddle leapt on top of him, kicking and hitting blindly. Harry felt his glasses shatter and he couldn't see and there was pain and he was fighting unseeing and it was sore and it was hard. They rolled down the stairs, swearing and cursing and yelling. They landed in the Commonroom with a _thud_ and fell apart, to the shock of everyone in the room.

-oOoOo-

Tom and Harry fell apart, Tom's followers immediately rushing over to see if he was ok. He pushed them away roughly, circling Harry with his wand out. Harry did the same, still drugged and alcohol induced. Then a flurry of spells from them both had the awed onlookers observing in stunned wonder.

They were both so smooth and amazing duellists it was near impossible to say who would win this. Harry had three big disadvantages though. He was extremely drunk, drugged badly by Tom and Tom would cheat in any way possible. The spells they traded were deadly and unique; several times accidentally slipping into Parsel-Tongue. They matched each other perfectly.

But then Harry tripped over a foot. He fell to the floor, Tom quickly coming over to hold a wand to his heart.

"I win, _**hero**_." Whispered Tom, fingering his wand. "You lose. I get to pick your punishment."

He nodded to two of his followers who immediately lifted the feebly struggling Harry up into the air.

_"Crucio Maxima!"_

The screams were on a completely new level. Nobody had heard anything like it before. Even Tom looked quite unnerved. The boy twisted out of their grasp and lay and the floor, screaming and sobbing. He stood up shakily, and Tom dropped the spell in shock. It wasn't possible. How was Harry managing to do it? This was the most painful torture anyone had ever created, everyone that had experienced it even for twenty seconds went mad or insane, their minds lost to the trauma and pain. But the younger boy had been under the spell for five minutes and he was simply standing up?! It wasn't possible! He walked over to the boy, who had collapsed on the floor again, trembling uncontrollably and was moaning, begging to die. He felt a vague sense of pity and pride for the boy.

"Stupefy." He murmured, and got no real joy out of seeing the relief on his face. He turned back to his shocked housemates, smoothing his expression into one no one could read.

"This is not mentioned to_ anyone_," he instructed quietly, looking at each of them hard. "Evans tonight angered me only slightly. If any of you speak of this outside of here, or in anyone else's hearing, you will face much more than _this_!" Here he indicated to the bloody, still twitching, unconscious form of Harry. "Good night."

Tom lifted Harry up gently and carried him out, leaving behind an event that would be talked about for centuries.

**_-oOoOo-_**

Harry groaned in agony as he returned to consciousness, feeling the pain of last night as well as the hangover hit him like a ton of bricks. He rolled to the side and vomited badly. A steadying hand lifted his head and gave him a glass of water to drink. He drank it down, aware of the Hangover Potion inside it. It would take the pain away. He gasped in relief as it eased some of the pain. But the Cruciatus Maximus effects were still there. It felt like his bones were all broken and on fire, his muscles were slowly being ripped to shreds. His blood was boiling and knives were being stabbed into every inch of his body. He gave a groan. Why did he have to defy Riddle of all people? He hated Halloween.

"You're awake," a horribly familiar voice said. Harry sat up, flinching as he caught sight of the terrifyingly angry face. Riddle loomed over him, looking furious and just a little bit impressed.

_Damn._

**-oOoOo-**

**hope you enjoyed the third chapter in Hypocritical! Please read and review to let me know what you think. Love you all!**

**Be sneaky and sly, my slippery snakes**

**DeVinette3112**


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